Santa Comes to Supai

To get to her new job on the reservation required traveling first by Santa Fe Railway to the Grand Canyon, then by mail truck to Topacoba Hilltop. The final 14 miles-down into Havasu Canyon to the village of Supai-was onhorseback.

Literally a stranger in a strange land, Madge Foster found the isolated location, the people, and their language too difficult, and she decided to leave. But upon arriving at nearby Williams, Arizona, she met a cowboy who convinced her to flip a coin to decide the matter once and for all. She did so and returned to Supai.

Before long she was silently thanking the cowhand for his advice. For she came to love the Havasupai people and to appreciate their culture.

During her second year on the reservation, another teacher-the new superintendent's wife was added for the older children. When the new instructor fell ill, Miss Foster had to take charge of the school's Christmas program. What resulted is the subject of the story that follows, which has been adapted from her unpublished journal, Havasupai Years.

The Christmas season was getting close again. One day Mark Hanna stopped me in the lane to inquire, "You gonna have Santa Claus this year?"

I told him I didn't know for sure, but I thought we would.

"I like to be Santa Claus," was Mark's next remark. "You know Sears Roebuck he got good Santa Claus suit. I get one maybe. I gonna trap up Hualapai Canyon; I get hides; I sell them; I buy Santa Claus suit. I like to be Santa Claus for all them little children."

"That would be nice," I said. "But you better see what the superintendent's wife says. She is boss at school."

"All right, I do that," said Mark as he rode off.

Sometime later I met him, and he said, "She say that be all right. I go now to trap, get hides, sell them, buy Santa Claus suit."

A short time before Christmas, I saw Mark again, and he had a pretty long face. "I thought you were up Hualapai Canyon trapping. What are you doing down here?" I asked him.

He shook his head sadly and said, "I have no good luck, no get much in my traps. I no get Santa Claus suit."

He felt so badly about it that I resolved to send for a Santa Claus suit in the next mail, and did.

Shortly before Christmas, the super intendent's wife was ill and turned her room of pupils over to me for a while. Then when she did come back, she turned the Christmas program over to me. I was at a loss to know what to do with these 40 youngsters of such varied ages. The small people had been working on Christmas songs and Mother Goose poems for some time, so it wasn't so difficult to find something for them; but the larger ones were different.

I read them Christmas plays, stories,

but someone said, "Supai is still a long way off. I guess we won't get home for Christmas."

Then the cowboys rolled up in their blankets, and the tramp went back to his place at the foot of the snowman; then followed a contest in snoring, which was interrupted by a stamping of feet and a "Hello! Hello! Where am I? I am hungry." (They couldn't get away from the eating idea; the Supai youngsters liked their food very much indeed.) Then in came Santa Claus.

The cowboys sat up and blinked foolishly and muttered, "Am I dreaming?"

"No," said Santa, "you are not dreaming. I'm Santa Claus. I'm trying to find my way to Supai and I got lost and my reindeer fell over a cliff and broke their necks and I'm hungry."

They fixed him something to eat, and after he'd finished, someone said, "We will show you the way to Supai."

Then they all got up and stood in a row, and said, "Hurrah for Supai!" and off they went: Santa Claus, the tramp, and the snowman following.

Like many teachers getting ready for a Christmas program, I sweated and fumed and tore my hair trying to get the youngsters in line.

I enjoyed the Santa Claus play most. We had a real Christmas tree. But our second Santa Claus was the crowning part of the evening.

I had despaired of the Santa suit coming in time. The Christmas program was to be on a Thursday evening, so when the mail came in on Wednesday and there wasn't a sign of my box from Sears Roebuck, I decided that poor Santa would have to wear the makeshift suit that was already at school. But I didn't know what to do about the jackknives and rubber balls I had ordered as gifts for the children.

Then, on the evening of the program, I saw a packhorse coming down the lane with a big box on his back, which undoubtedly was my Sears Roebuck order. I found out later that there had been so much mail the day before that they left part of it at Hilltop and made an extra trip the next day.

It was nearly time for the program when Ralph Roger and Johnnie Montoya stopped in. "Come, I want you to wrap up some packages for me," I greeted them.

"Oh, but we don't know how," Johnnie said.

I grabbed him and Ralph by the coat sleeves and led them to the box of rubber balls and jackknives. I wrapped up one rubber ball to show them how. They protested some more, but I just handed them the paper and string and dashed off to find Santa Claus.

When I found Mark Hanna and told him the new suit had come, nothing would do but he must go and try it on. Later he called someone to tell me to come and see. You never saw a more pleased Santa than that one. In dashing around to get things ready, I forgot to save parcels for Santa's bag, but at the last minute I tossed a gunny sack at him, and he picked up an empty box.

After the boys finished the little play, I sat and wondered what in the world our second Santa Claus, Hanna, would do and say; but again I was needlessly worried. He knew what to say all right. He came in shouting, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to all the little boys and girls! Merry Christmas to every body! I come sooner only my reindeer slip off the cliff and break their necks. I get lost, but I come anyway. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, everyone!"

There was a great shouting and excited whispering as he walked the length of the room, and then breathlessly they watched him reach down into his sack and pull out the box. I watched as breathlessly as they, wondering what he would do with the empty box. Then shaking his head sadly, he said, "I dunno, my box is empty." Over and over he said it, each time in a tone that sounded more puzzled. Then Bert Jones giggled, and then the audience laughed and laughed. They were much pleased with Santa and his empty box.

Then everyone else was quiet again, and Santa said, "I see some of my helpers have been here ahead of me."

Then he started picking up the wrapped parcels and tried to read the names, but the Santa mask wouldn't let him, so he said, "My eyes is getting old, some you young people have to help me." Then the upper grade girls went to help. But he wouldn't let them give out a package until he made a little speech about the person to receive it, and he demanded that they walk to the front of the room to get it. There was much hilarity and many times "My box is empty" or "My eyes is getting old" was mumbled by someone in the room.

I never saw a better Santa Claus, and after the program I told him, and also asked how he'd managed to be so prepared. His explanation was, “Well, you see, you forget to tell me what to say, so when I went up Hualapai Canyon, I pretend to be Santa Claus. I play the trees, the bushes, my dogs, and my horses are little children, and I talk to them just like I am Santa Claus, so I know what to say.” Yes, indeed, Mark was a very earnest

Santa; and for a long time after Christmas, “I dunno, my box is empty,” was a favorite saying of the younger Supais. It made a comical way of saying, “I don't know.” The day after the program, the Indians had their usual outdoor barbecue. Everyone in the valley came as they did the year before, only this time Nurse Barker and I ate outside with them, and so also did the new superintendent and his wife. We settled down to a few days' vacation. The superintendent and his wife went away for a day or two. We didn't know just what we would do Christmas Day, but decided finally that we would have a Christmas party for the younger folks that evening. We spent a good share of the day preparing for it. We lined up some games we thought they would enjoy and prepared some refreshments. They came flocking in-all we had invited and a few more. Everyone seemed to have a good time, and I don't think they would have gone home until morning if Nurse Barker hadn't slipped out and shut off the power plant. POSTSCRIPT: Today the children of Supai still come to school speaking better Havasupai than English, and they still celebrate Christmas at their school, a new structure with four classrooms. The tiny schoolhouse of Madge Foster's day is now the library. And the young women who now come to teach at Supai no longer need to ride horseback 14 miles down the Topacoba Trail. Instead, they can ride or walk a mere 8 miles down the new, improved Hualapai Trail to the village, where they find the children and grandchildren of Madge's studentsstill friendly, generous, and ready to enjoy a Supai Christmas.